To Dye or Not to Dye, That is the Question

She’s bone thin
middle-aged
with an edge of her slip
hanging below her skirt.
Wearing white socks
and sandals,
she’s not exactly
a fashion statement.
She seems frozen,
overwhelmed by
the plethora
of choices
for washed out
blondes
going gray.
Choosing at last,
she reads carefully,
looks at the photo
and sadly puts it back.
With a soft sigh
she seems to collapse
inward with her
arms crossed tightly,
holding herself together.
She stands dejected
oblivious
to her surroundings,
blinking away a tear.
She takes a deep breath
and begins again,
spends thirty minutes
with all the blondes
and once nervously,
almost furtively,
eyeing a red-head.
I bite my lip
and resist shouting,
“YES! Go for it!”
Then, running a hand
through her faded hair
she turns and slowly
walks away.